


Pale Blue Dots

by allthetrek



Series: A Stranding, A Crash Landing [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:02:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthetrek/pseuds/allthetrek
Summary: Captain Pike and the reader get stranded on a Class L planet. With no guarantee of rescue, they must adapt to life together in their new environment. Eventually, formalities and professional boundaries fall away, leaving room for a more personal connection to flourish.





	Pale Blue Dots

You wake up to the Captain muttering in his sleep, his limbs moving restlessly as he’s tormented by a fever-induced nightmare. Your eyes search your surroundings in the dim, blue-toned lighting of the ship’s cabin. It’s only been a few days of sleeping in here; the surroundings are still an unfamiliar alternative to waking up in your cozy quarters onboard the Enterprise, like you’re used to. Little do you know, these surroundings are going to become all too familiar to you as time goes on… And on…

You groggily get up from your cot, coming to sit on the edge of Christopher’s bed, across from yours. You look down at the man, his eyes closed, his face contorted in discomfort. Beads of perspiration adorn his brow, and even in the dim light, he looks pale and unhealthy. Your chest tightens with concern, and fear of losing your only ally on this entire planet. Your only company… And you have to admit, his company means more to you with each day that passes…

Christopher shudders in his sleep, his body trembling with cold yet burning up with the fever, his regulatory mechanisms severely compromised. You place your hand firmly on his bicep and shake him, trying to pull him out of his restless slumber. “Chris! Chris!” you exclaim, leaning closer to him so your words can permeate his unconscious auditory system.

You continue to shake him, his bicep tensing beneath your touch, and you feel the moisture on his bare skin. He slowly comes out of his nightmare, his brain straining to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings. He stares at you, the frown line between his brows pronounced, but it disappears as his expression relaxes, recognition flooding through him, accompanied by relief at seeing you next to him.

His eyes trace up and down your silhouette; you’re wearing only your black Starfleet-issue undershirt and underwear, your bare legs another unfamiliar sight to the Captain. In his delirious and compromised state, he does not avert his eyes from you, and his gaze seems to almost penetrate the barrier of your clothing, but that could be your imagination…

“You were having a bad dream,” you report to him, like he doesn’t already know, but he nods in concurrence, his head turning slightly as he looks at your hand, still squeezing his arm. You release him, pulling back from his personal space a bit, though the memory of his muscular physique lingers on your fingertips.

Christopher’s mind is in a heavy fog from the physical trauma, infection, and analgesic you’ve been administering. “[Y/N]…” he mutters, his hand coming up to rub his sleepy eyes, and he tries to shake the curtain from his mind, to no avail. You see he’s struggling, his condition seriously worrisome, and you grab the nearby tricorder and scan him. The infection is becoming systemic. He needs a doctor; he needs sick bay! What are you supposed to do!?

You’ve already administered all of the medical treatment you can for the moment, with what you have available. You hand Christopher some electrolyte fluid, helping him to sit up a little as he drinks it down. He falls back into the mattress with an exhausted exhale. The analgesic isn’t helping as much as it should, and the infected tissue radiates pain every time he breathes.

You look at him with the most empathetic expression you can muster, you heart going out to him in this time of despair. His eyes say it all; the glimmer of anguish and hopelessness you see in his pale blue dots makes you reach out to him once more, your hand meeting his and you squeeze it. You feel him reciprocate, and though no words are spoken, you know he is gathering strength from your touch, your presence. He takes some breaths, and you feel him relax a little, his eyes closing and you stay with him like that for a while.

You eventually shift, intending to go back to bed, but he gently holds your hand in place, and you look to him to see what he needs. “Stay with me… Please?” he asks, his request barely audible, his voice so soft, as though he knows his request is unconventional, taboo even. In his worn down state, though, he doesn’t care. You are the most comforting presence he’s experienced in a long time. Tonight, he needs you. He just does.

You open your mouth slightly, unsure if you heard him correctly, but then he begins to shift over on the mattress, carefully adjusting as every movement sends pain shooting from the wound in his torso. He makes room for you, and you feel your body move almost autonomously to lie down next to him. There’s just enough room for you to lie on your side, next to him, your front against his arm, and your hand finds his and you hold it, feeling him squeeze you appreciatively in return.

You can’t believe this is happening, but you’re happy to provide whatever comfort you can to Christopher in his time of need. It could have been you that was injured, fighting for your life with slim chance of rescue. It’s up to the two of you to support each other here. You listen to Christopher’s breathing change, your reassuring proximity helping him ease into a more fitful slumber.

You drift off eventually, the lack of blankets no bother as his warmth radiates through you like a fusion reactor…


End file.
